Eastern Flower, Western Bear
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Kidnapped from his family, Yao longs to know why his white bear captor wants him, and who is the mysterious man in his bed at night. But when he unwittingly curses the bear, Ivan, Yao must fix his mistake and rescue him from Arthur, the troll king...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again. I'm hoping to finish this in a timely manner; its for a contest that's due date is fast approaching. I have so many projects in the works, and I'm sorry T^T**

**If you guys know what this is based off of, extra points for you. I don't know how closely I'm going to follow the original faerie tale; already, its deviating. But I like it, and its fun for me. Anyway, please enjoy, and correct my intermittent Chinese, da? The girls who help me speak Shanghainese and Mandarin, and I always get conflicting translations *laughs* . I'm going with what the Shanghainese girl told me, if that helps at all?**

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"…and I have half a mind to string all four of them up by their toenails, aru!" Wang Yao shouted, waving a wok and a pair of chopsticks dangerously. The vegetables that were currently frying on said wok were close to jumping out of the pan with his agitated movements, but Yao, unconcernedly, just coaxed them back in, setting the whole contraption back on the low hearth fire to let them cook a bit more.

The big white bear hadn't moved from his position, nose on paws and staring transfixedly at the fire, his big violet eyes reflecting the flames.

_I wanted meat…_ grumbled the bear, eyeing the vegetables with distaste.

"Then get off your lazy butt and go catch me some meat, aru!" scolded Yao. "You have to skin and gut it too, because if you want meat, you need effort, that's what I think, aru."

_Paws are no good for skinning…_ the bear muttered petulantly.

"No meat for you, then," Yao said to the bear. "Or at least, I won't cook you any, aru. You can go and eat the raw stuff all you like."

The bear finally stood, shaking his great head slowly from side to side. _So… you wish to string your siblings up by their toenails…? I can't help with that, but I could find other ways to subdue them, hmm?_

Yao's eyes went wide with indignation, and he began to chase the bear around the kitchen with his steaming wok. "No, no, do not want! Figure of speech, aru, not death threat! They just drove me nuts, made me remember why I left home in the first place!"

_Because you loved them_, Reminded the bear, slowing to a halt.

Yao shifted uncomfortably, turning away from the bear to pour his vegetables into a bowl of rice he had already prepared. "Well, yes, but I did not request to go back for almost a year, and _that_ was because they were annoying. Now, I'm going to eat, and you can either mope around here or you can go catch a big deer or something but either way I will not share."

_Cabbage is not bear food_, the bear sniffed, and lumbered out the door. He turned around, though, before he got to the exit. _They didn't… give you anything, did they? I told you not to accept anything they gave you. _

A candle stub landed on the bear's nose, whipped at him from across the room; when he looked up in annoyance, however, he only found Yao seated comfortably at the table, eyes closed and eating as if nothing were wrong.

"Kiku insisted I take this, though I didn't want to aru. I only found later he had slipped this into my pocket. Is this what you were warning me against?" The bear glared impassively at the candle, and Yao sighed, muttering something about stubborn beasts. "Keep it, aru, if you really hate it that much. I won't use it."

And for a very short moment, the bear's expression became truly fearful, truly predatory and animal, and Yao was transfixed. But then the bear turned away, snapping the candle stub in his jaws until it had crumbled, and lumbering out the door.

_I will be back by sundown…_ the bear murmured into the late-afternoon air. Yao watched him go with a frown, staring at the mess of wax fragments on his clean kitchen flagstones, wondering if he had made the right choice after all.

Yao had been living with a bear for almost a year, now, somewhere in the mountains to the north; he didn't know where and honestly, didn't much care. It was, frankly, better than home, although no matter the bluster, he constantly missed his family. But before he had been taken, his family of four younger siblings went hungry at night, was constantly cold and poor. Now they were warm and fed and rich enough to live comfortably, and all it took was Yao giving up his own life.

The bear had lumbered into his life on the coldest, longest night of last winter. The youngest child, Jia Long, had been ill for some night and his fever had only grown worse over the past day. Yao was beside himself, cooling him constantly and trying to feed him herbs, but Jia Long couldn't keep anything down. The other children had clustered in the far corner of their one-room cottage, staring, wide-eyed, unable to help. It was too cold and storming outside to retrieve any more firewood, any more food, and Yao knew with a sudden deep and desperate certainty that his brother would die.

And then, a snuffling at the door, a shake and shiver of the thin walls of the cottage as something heavy fell against them, against the door, and the entire portal cracked in _half_ as a body fell over the sill. A bear, a great white bear as tall in the shoulder as Yao, tumbled in. Yao had jumped to his feet, grabbing up their only cooking pan, staring down the beast. Mei and Yong Soo had screamed, and Kiku had pulled them close, eyes wide and body shaking. Maybe Jia Long was the lucky one, to be asleep when he was eaten by –

_Come with me_, the bear had ordered. _Jao, come with me and leave your family, and your brother will live._

That had thrown them all into a stunned silence.

"W-what…?" Yao had finally asked, ineloquently.

_I can heal him, and I promise you, I can make your family rich beyond belief. All you need to do is come with me, be my companion._

"Y-you're gonna eat big brother!" Mei wailed. "The spirit bear is gonna eat big brother -you can't do that!"

The bear huffed in agitation, a sound that was far too human to be comfortable – though what was comfortable about this, Yao did not know – and glared at her. _Did you hear me? He is to be my _companion_, I do not eat companions. But enough – Jao. Come with me_.

Yao had been shocked silent, the pan trembling in his fingers. He looked at his siblings, shivering in fear in the corner, at poor Jia Long, sweating and whimpering on a mat on the floor.

"I-I …" he began.

"If it can help us, why can't you do it?" asked Kiku suddenly, dark brown eyes flat and emotionless. "If it would save Jia Long, why can't you do it?"

Yao felt himself flush in shame, at the same time his stomach prickled with hurt. No one spoke up to contradict Kiku, and of course they were right. He should do whatever he could to protect his family, even if it was… to trust a talking bear…? And yet, to give him up, so easily…

_Jao…_ the bear said, shuffling forward, toward the body of Jia Long. Yao held the pan tighter, raising it above his head.

"D-don't come any closer, aru! I won't let you eat him!"

_I WILL NOT EAT HIM!_ The bear roared, opening its maw and growling loud enough to shake the entire cottage. Mei and Yong Soo yelped and fear, and Yao's pan fell from his fingers. The bear stalked past him, and Yao let him, unable to do anything else. The cold was seeping into the cottage through the broken door, and he shivered violently, realizing that none of his siblings could survive this life anymore.

The bear stopped in front of Jia Long, staring at him for a long moment. Then, it slowly lowered its nose to rest on the boy's forehead. Almost immediately, Jia Long began to shudder and sweat, and Yao almost leapt forward right then, but a low growl from the bear warned him off.

And, after a few moments, Jia Long fell still. His breathing evened out and the redness worked its way out of his features, leaving him looking… almost peaceful.

_His fever has broken_, the bear said, and Yao rushed to Jia Long's side, laying a hand on his forehead to confirm. It was true.

_You can trust me to keep my word, _the bear continued. _Now. Will you come with me?_

The answer had been apparent from the very beginning. They were too desperate to do anything else.

"Yes," Yao told the bear. Mei gasped. Yong Soo wailed wordlessly and threw himself around his brother's waist. Kiku watched them all impassively.

The bear's expression did not change – could it? A bear, have expressions?

_Climb on my back and blindfold yourself. _

Yao nodded, bending down to pry Yong Soo off himself. He hugged the boy tightly, looking over his head at his sister and Kiku. "Be good to each other. Help each other survive. It will be alright." He told them. "Kiku… you are the eldest… I put you in charge."

Kiku nodded impassively.

And before anyone could say anything else, Yao grabbed a scrap of cloth off the mantelpiece; a momento from their mother, a soft, pale violet sash she had once worn, in better days, when she was young and lived in the city and danced. He climbed onto the bear, wrapping the belt around his eyes, then threading his fingers into the coarse fur of his broad back. Then he shut his ears to the sounds of his siblings cries and let the bear take him away.

* * *

Yao shook himself out of the recollection, staring down at his cooling bowl of food. It had been almost a year since the bear took him away, and what a strange life he lead, now; or rather, it was strange in its normalcy.

The bear lived in a house like a human would, a nice house with a large kitchen and a separate bedroom and even a little sitting room. There was a garden outside that was always full of vegetables, even in winter, and if Yao ever needed anything the bear would lumber outside and within hours he would return with it in its jaws.

Over the past eleven moons, Yao had become comfortable in the bear's presence. They would have their fights and spats, but they could also have deep and pleasant conversations, too. When Yao was itching for an argument, the bear gave almost as good as he got. It was a good life, and the bear was a good… companion. Companions, were what they were. And so life passed.

Two things, however, made Yao uncomfortable.

The bear never told Yao why he chose Yao to come with him. Whenever Yao broached the subject, he would growl and then turn silent and become almost like the beast that sometimes Yao forgot he was. The bear never gave a name, and so Yao always referred to him as "Bear" or sometimes "Baixiong", white bear. Yao did not know why the bear needed a companion, why he could speak and heal and grant wealth, or why _Yao_, of all people, had been chosen to be his companion.

The other thing that made Yao uncomfortable was the fact that the bear was not a bear at all.

He did not think he was supposed to know this, but he did. Every night, he would retire to bed before the bear did, and undress in the dark. Candles were not allowed in the house, not one. Yao had asked for them, but the bear refused outright. So Yao grew used to getting ready to sleep without light. He would curl on one side of the large bed, too big for one person. And he would slowly drift off, until…

Every night, just as Yao was beginning to fall asleep, the door would creak open. He only knew it was open because of the sound that the hinges made; somehow, no light at all slipped in through the open portal. Then, someone would crawl into bed with him. Not an animal – it was a man.

The man was large and solid and smelled faintly of pine, and he would stay on his side of the bed, his bare chest only just brushing Yao's back. And then the man would fall asleep and Yao would, too. When morning light slipped in through the curtains, the man would be gone, nowhere to be seen and Yao would almost be sure it was a dream, but for the smell of pine that lingered in the sheets.

Life had passed in an easy way, despite the lingering doubts about his captor – though captor was not the right word, not really – until, after almost eleven months had passed, Yao began to feel truly lonely. He missed his family desperately, and prayed for them almost every day at an altar he had requested the bear bring him incense for. He always had his worries, that perhaps the bear had not kept his promise, that Jia Long had not recovered and his family was still poor or perhaps something had happened to them… Yao took to spending long days sitting on the back porch, doing nothing more than weaving or spinning or some other easy, menial chore, worrying himself away for the sake of his family. He stopped eating, and nothing the bear could do could coax the spark of life back into him. Finally, the bear had relented with an ill-natured sigh.

_I will return you to your family for a visit, if that is what you desire…_ the bear had told him, suddenly, one night after Yao had eaten and they were gathered in front of the hearth fire. Yao had been so startled he almost fell forward into the hearth, but the bear had grabbed the back of his tunic with strong, but careful, jaws, hauling him back to sprawl awkwardly against the beast's side. Yao looked up at him from the floor in disbelief.

"Really, Baixiong, would you truly, aru…?" he asked with a cautious hope.

_One week… _grumbled the bear. _One week only. I will take you there, blindfolded, and you can spend it as you please and prove to yourself that your family is safe. But then you must return to me._ The bear stared at him with bright violet eyes, and Yao was startled. He had never truly looked into the bear's eyes before, and had always imagined them to be the eyes of a beast. However, these eyes held a humanity that Yao had never thought possible. They were desperate and helpless and scared and insecure…

_You must promise to return to me._

And for some reason, Yao could not help but to laugh, flinging himself forward to hug the bear tightly around the neck – after all, he was surprisingly cute, vulnerable like this.

"I promise, aru. I'll return to you."

He had been able to travel to his family the next day, even, blindfolded and perched on the back of a white bear. His family had been overjoyed, but they would not approach the beast, staring at him with wary eyes. The bear himself elected to leave them alone, but not without growling final instructions to his companion.

_No matter what, you must not take any advice from them; you must not take any gift that they give you. Do you understand, Jao?_

"I understand, I understand, now leave, aru! They are all afraid of you, and with good reason."

The bear nodded obediently, and Yao thought that, for just a moment, that human spark of insecurity had returned to his eyes. But then the beast left and his siblings rushed forward and Yao could think of nothing else.

They were all doing well, of course; Baixiong had kept his promise. Jia Long was healthy and bright-eyed, staring at Yao with an expression much like he was seeing a ghost. It was to be expected, of course; the boy had been asleep and recovering when Yao had left him, he must have been so confused when he woke up. Yong Soo raced forward, throwing himself around his brother's waist, babbling immediately.

"Big brother, big brother!" he yelled, squeezing Yao too tightly for his liking; and he could put his arms all the way around his chest now! He had grown so tall! "Big brother, you are back!"

"Just to visit, aru, just for a while…" Yao murmured. He turned to Mei, who had also come to hug him from the other side. She was crying into his shirt. He kissed the crown of her head, laughing.

"Don't cry, Mei-mei," he said. "Are you really that badly off, aru?"

Mei looked up at him, shaking her head. She pointed wordlessly back at their house, where Kiku was standing on the porch, watching the proceedings with a fond sort of smile.

The house… was not the one he had left behind.

It looked much like the bear's house, large and obviously more than one room. It was sturdy, too, and there was a small shed next to it that housed chickens and what looked like a goat. A thriving garden stood in the yard, and, like the bear's, it was still green with vegetables even though it was almost the winter equinox. Yao blinked, astonished, pleased that his family was doing well.

They drew him inside, bombarding him with questions that he answered as best he could. Little Jia Long stood at the stove, cooking with a skill that made Yao very proud. They brought him to sit at the table, telling them about their lives and how they had fared.

Yao was glad to be home, he really was. For six days, he was able to relax around his family, and they almost immediately fell back into their old routines; the petty fights and sibling rivalry, Yao cooking for all of them alongside Jia Long, Yong Soo getting into messy trouble, and Kiku overseeing it all quietly, working on domestic work with Mei or out retrieving firewood and taking care of the garden or animals. He was a good big brother, Yao thought reflectively, always quietly working for the good of his siblings. He had left the family in good hands…

He still felt betrayed, slightly; Kiku hadn't spoken to him directly almost at all, letting the younger children ask questions and fuss over Yao. He was polite and answered questions directed at him with brevity. He almost always went to bed before the others, and Yao didn't get a chance to talk to him until his last night of the stay.

On that night, Yao was up in the kitchen, watching over a smouldering hearth fire and sipping tea, unable to sleep. He had been having difficulty all week, felt as if he were lonely, or missing something, even though he was sharing a bed with Yong Soo in the room where the boys slept.

Kiku stepped into the darkened kitchen, as if knowing his brother would be there. He sat at the table across from him, staring at Yao as if the older boy were a puzzle that he was trying hard to figure out.

Growing uncomfortable, Yao tried to break the oddly tense silence.

"We haven't had a real chance to talk, Kiku – how are you doing, aru? Are you all… alright?"

Kiku nodded. "We have everything that we could need. The younger ones are happy. You made the right choice to leave."

Yao frowned, trying not to be stung by the words. He turned back to his cup, troubled. "I'm glad my sacrifice could be of some use."

"Well, aren't you provided for as well?" Kiku pressed. "You look healthy; the beast must be feeding you well and taking care of you. It looked feral, of course, but you are not harmed?"

Yao bristled at the callous tone of voice. "Baixiong is a _he_, not an it, aru."

"How would you know?"

"At night, he sleeps with me, aru, and his body is that of a man!"

Kiku recoiled, face growing shocked, and Yao wondered if he should have revealed that detail of his new life. "What? I knew he was magic, but a changeling – what does he look like? Why is he that way?"

Yao glared at him. "I don't know; he won't answer my questions, aru, and I cannot see him at night. I am not allowed candles and it's always pitch dark."

"You've never seen it? Then how do you know it is a man? What if it is a goblin, or a horrible creature?"

"More horrible than a talking bear?" Yao asked acidly. "I live with a monster, Kiku, but he has never hurt me, aru. Frankly, I don't care in the least."

Kiku still looked troubled. "I'm only worried for you –"

"Hnnh," snorted Yao, unconvinced.

" – and I want you to be able to sleep in safety. If you aren't allowed candles, take one of ours with you."

Yao was faced with a decision. On the one hand, he truly was curious as to what manner of… thing… the bear turned into at night. Surely he was nothing more grotesque than his daytime form. On the other hand, the bear had told him specifically not to accept advice or gifts. Finally, Yao shook his head.

"I cannot, aru, Baixiong would not like it."

"So, you are a pet to the bear?"

Yao had stormed off to bed, then, leaving Kiku in the kitchen.

* * *

Which left Yao where he was, now, staring at his now-cold bowl of rice and turning his entire situation over in his mind. The sun was beginning to set, and the bear was still not home from his travels; perhaps he had been more angry that Yao had found the candle in his pocket than he thought. That was not a pleasant idea, not at all. He did not like to think of the bear as angry or disappointed in him – it wasn't even his fault! He could not help his stupid siblings' actions, could he? Yao bolted down his bowl of rice, feeling suddenly vindictive at the bear's imaginary infractions. He could do whatever he pleased, Yao decided; the bear took him away from his family, and he didn't have the right to get angry over a little stub of candle.

Still in a sullen frame of mind, Yao marched over to the scraps of candle wax and tallow on the floor, scraping them up into the neatest pile he could. There was only a very little left, but Yao put all that he could salvage in a small cup and hung it above the fire to melt. He retrieved the unbroken wick, inserting it into the warm wax, and had himself a makeshift candle. It would do.

"Stupid bear, aru, thinking he can control me. I'm no one's pet!" Yao grumbled, going to his room and shoving the candle under his pillow, along with a match for setting the hearth fire. He'd see that stupid bear and then his curiosity would be gone and that would be that, wouldn't it?

He waited for Baixiong to come home.

* * *

It took the bear much longer than Yao expected to return, and he fell asleep in front of the hearth waiting for him. He only awoke to a snuffling at his back, and warm breath on his neck; even then, Yao was too sleepy to think properly.

"Stupid, ungrateful creature…" he mumbled. "Making me wait up. Worried for you, aru, and you waltz home so late…"

_Sorry…_ the bear apologized softly. He nosed Yao's side. _My Jao should go to bed, hmm?_

"I'm no one's nothing, aru," Yao snapped back, yawning.

Yao stood up slowly, sore from his position on the flagstones. He leaned on the bear a little for support, feeling little more than a sweeping relief that he was home safe. Not that he was worried for a creature as big as that, but… but nothing. He just couldn't rest properly without a good handle on where the predator was; it was a matter of safety!

That thought in mind, Yao tripped to his room, falling onto bed heavily, almost asleep even as his head hit the pillow.

He was still awake, though, when… the intruder entered again, curling as he always did so close to Yao's back that he could feel the warmth from a bare chest.

Yao stiffened, suddenly awake, suddenly thinking of the hard lumps under his pillow; his candle, and his match. He thought of the man behind him, and again the faintly vindictive curiosity swirled inside him.

"I'm no one's pet, aru…" he murmured to himself, before sitting up and lighting the candle.

The sight in front of his eyes was beyond anything he might have imagined.

Yao could not put a face to the body, a face to the bear, and he was completely unprepared for the prone figure asleep next to him. The man – Yao had been right, it was a man – was huge and pale, taller than Yao by at least three hands. His features were rugged and earthy, but nothing short of handsome, even in their wildness. It was the roundness of sleep that softened them, calming them to something peaceful and gentle, something like… a sleeping bear. His hair was fair and blonde; not quite white but verging on that familiar color.

Yao was entranced, recognizing his bear immediately, despite the transfiguration. He was… beautiful, somehow, and Yao was utterly shocked. He leaned closer to get a better look, gaze focused on the man's face, his closed eyes, wondering if beneath those lids were the same insecure, wild violet eyes –

But Yao was not watching where he tilted his candle, and three drops of tallow dripped over the lip, one by one, falling onto the bear-man's neck.

The bear-man woke with a start, sitting up with a gasp and a growl that was not human. Yao was so startled that he could not move, staring at the man with a fearful, guilty look. The man stared back, and his eyes were just as insecure as they had been before; angry and terrified.

"Baixiong…" Yao whispered.

"What…" the man growled, his voice gravelly with disuse but the same cadence that made itself heard in Yao's head each and every day. "What have you _done?" _he demanded, surging forward and tearing the candle from Yao's grasp. He looked like he was going to throw it against the wall, but instead only sat it on the bedside table, grabbing Yao's arm as he did so, and pulling them so that they were face-to-face. He looked so sad…

"B-baixiong, I'm… I'm so sorry," Yao stuttered, realizing slowly that he had done something unforgivable. He dove for the bedside table, digging out his mother's sash that he had once used as a blindfold and trying to use it to wipe away the tallow on the man's neck. It only stained the sash, which was tangled around the man's neck by Yao's frantic movements and the man's own agitated thrashing.

"A week, a week longer, and I would have been free!" he yelled at Yao, grabbing the smaller man's forearms to still him. "Do you not understand? You have ruined me!"

"Baixiong –"

"My name is Ivan!" the man yelled.

"Ivan…" Yao repeated, mollified. "Wh-what happened?"

"I am… I was a prince of this land…" Ivan told Yao. "I used to be, but I caught the eye of the king of the trolls and I was made to live in his castle. He said I had to marry into his family, his son, who is beautiful but cruel. I told him that I did not want to marry the boy, that appearances alone are nothing to me, and the king told me… that if that was true, I would have to put it to the test. If I could not find someone else who could look past appearances, then I would marry his son. So he put this spell on me, and turned me into a bear, and if I could not find someone who could accept me and sleep with me, even not knowing what I was, without succumbing to the spell of appearances, then I would be free to marry whoever I chose."

Yao was staring, wide-eyed at Ivan, trying to process it. He could just see the man in the flickering candle-light, and his eyes had to be playing tricks on him, because Ivan was beginning to dissolve like snow, into nothing, his edges blurring.

"So… you chose me…" Yao wondered. "Why, aru? How could you just pick… just pick someone, at random?"

"It was not random! You helped me once, before, without knowing who I was, when I was very young. I thought… I thought it would be you, Jao…" the bear – Ivan – said, violet eyes flooding. "I thought I could trust you."

"Ivan -!"

He really was disappearing, his body fading into mist, translucent and intangible; only a few features still stood out – the strong lines of his nose, the curve of his lips, his haunting violet eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"To the troll's castle…"

"Ivan!" Yao yelled again, realizing with a clench of his heart that the man was almost gone, and that it was his fault, all his fault. "Ivan, I'll find you, aru, I won't let my mistake damn you!"

And as Ivan smiled sadly, Yao bent forward, just once, to kiss him.

All his lips met was empty air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! **

**I made a bit of a tactical error in chapter one, and did not explain that this was based off of a faerie tale … it's called "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" and it's a Norwegian folk tale (though it is similar to the French Beauty and the Beast, and the Greek Eros and Psyche). I aim to keep the mood the same, so it reads a bit vague and fantastic, because it's supposed to be like a faerie tale. I guess my motto is "Please suspend disbelief! It is only a faerie tale!" *laughs***

**Big shout-out to QueenHappo for assisting me on some of the development, characters, and explanations for things (I'm working on Russia's characterization for later, so thank you!). If anyone has questions so far, I'm glad to answer them. **

**Welcome to "Woefully Unedited" Theatre! Please feel free to concrit, yes?**

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Yao let out a loud, keening wail, unable to stop himself from yelling as the man beneath him disappeared as if he had never been. His eyes were screwed shut, and he beat the pillow in a sudden rush of overwhelming guilt but –

- The pillow was no longer there, nor the bed, nor the table or the candle and Yao opened his eyes in panic.

He was standing in the middle of a clearing in the forest, the trees on either side of him closely pressed and familiar, but there used to be something _between_ those trees and _within_ that clearing – the house was gone, and everything in it, and Yao was left standing in the ragged clothing that he had been wearing the night the bear took him away, clutching his only possession in the world, a violet scarf that was now stained with three dark drops of oily tallow.

Yao stared down at the scarf in disbelief, eyes flicking around the forest, but there was _nothing_, nothing at all left besides the stains on the fabric.

He gaped, almost convinced he was having a horrible dream, a nightmare, he had been sleepwalking and now he was here, alone in the forest, away from his comfortable home and his family. He clenched the scarf in his hands, knowing with regret that he was not dreaming this, not at all.

"I have to make this right, aru," he said out loud.

He had not thought those words over before uttering them, but as soon as they hung in the air he knew them to be true. Ivan had rescued him and his family from the poverty and misery they had lived in, and so Yao was honor-bound to rescue him in return, the beautiful, kind, infuriating, childish _companion _he had treasured for the better part of a year.

Yao never defaulted on his debts.

He didn't know where he was; the forest around him was alien, something he had not seen beyond working in the garden and brief forays to a nearby stream; the only other times he had traversed it were blindfolded and on the back of his bear.

So Yao folded the scarf over, twice, tied it over his eyes, and began to walk.

It was not easy going, he could not claim it was; ever step seemed rife with tripping stones and snagging branches, and more than once he ran into a tree or bush, but he kept walking, realizing with some odd awe that he knew where he was going, at least in part. The bear had passed this way before, on his brief trips outside; the path sounded and smelled and tasted so familiar to him.

Yao walked for how long, he did not know, going down-hill and vaguely south, staying between the sun as it rose in the east and the moon as it set in the west.

And he tripped over the land and the scrub and shivered in the cold and kept walking until he fell to his knees for the fifth time, the eighth time, a time he could not count, and that last time he could not get up again. He laid, pressed to the ground, unable to summon the energy to crawl to his feet again.

"Ay, what is this~?" a voice sing-songed by his head, too cheerful for Yao's fuzzy and furious brain. He tried to mutter a response but he felt exhausted and hungry and so drained…

"Well well well, we can't leave you out here alone, now can we? You're not in the best of shape, huh?" the voice chattered. It must have been male, all low and smouldering, but it was so … chirpy…

And then Yao's body was lifted into strong arms that smelled faintly of olive oil and sunshine and he was carried somewhere. Yao tried to struggle out of the unwanted grip, but he found he could not move a muscle, and let himself be carried…wherever he was going. The man wasn't trying to hurt him, after all.

"Why do you have that cloth on your eyes?" the man asked in his cheerful fashion as Yao registered a change in temperature and stagnation of the air that meant they must be inside. "I should take it off –"

"-no…" groaned Yao. "Leave it."

He could feel the man shrug, the muscles rippling beneath his skin, but then Yao blacked out, as he was being laid on a soft mattress.

* * *

He awoke feeling like he had not slept at all. Sleep was supposed to bring blessed blackness, a brief respite from trouble, but all that Yao's dreams consisted of were vivid, russet replays of the night's events. He tossed restlessly, waking with the utter certainty of what had occurred and only a vague curiosity as to where he was and what manner of creature had welcomed him in.

He stirred, trying to sit up, and strong arms supported his back, helping him. Despite lingering exhaustion and severely abused kneecaps, Yao was not injured, and agitatedly shoved away the assistance, sitting up on his own power.

"I'm so glad you're awake~" the voice from before gushed; Yao could practically hear the tildes at the end of his sentences. "Who are you? What are you doing? Why do you have that scarf around your eyes?"

Yao bristled at the volley of questions, thinking regretfully of Yong Soo, but… the man had helped him, and he deserved politeness in response.

"I…" he coughed a little, and felt a small cup pressed into his palms. He drank greedily, the water dripping down his chin, then tried again.

"I'm Wang Yao, aru, and I search for the Troll King."

The body beside him stiffened. Yao narrowed his eyes behind their covering, trying to discern what brought on the anxiety.

"I'm Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo," the man returned. "And I know of what you speak."

This threw Yao for a loop, but his heart surged with hope. "You do? Who is he, and where, aru? I must find him."

Antonio sighed beside him. "I… don't know where…" he said sadly. "But he stole something precious from me, and if I knew where he was, I would do everything in my power to get my precious possession back."

Yao nodded, sympathetic to the man's story and the obvious dejection in his voice. "Well, he stole something from me, too, aru, and I'm not going to sit around and mope. I have to get my white bear back. And so, thank you for your hospitality, but I must go."

Yao struggled to stand, missed the floor, and fell awkwardly out of bed. Antonio let out a squawk, reaching to help Yao pick himself up.

"You can't go yet, it's already nighttime and you must be so tired and hungry!"

Yao shook his head, standing on his own power. Already night – he must have been travelling all day, and last night with no sleep; no wonder he passed out. But he could not while away time here. "No. I will not impose upon you any longer; I have to go."

There was silence for a long moment, then Antonio spoke.

"I can tell you are serious. I understand. Let me give you a little food to take with you, and … something else, that might help you on the way."

"I can't, that's too kind –"

"Just do something for me in return," Antonio begged earnestly, broad hands cupping Yao's small ones. "Find my precious thing, and help him to return to me?"

Yao could do nothing but agree, and soon he was pressed with a small bag of food and another object, smooth and heavy.

"W-what is it?" he asked wonderingly, feeling the surface carefully. It was mostly round, perhaps a bit oblong, with a tuft of something hard and spiked at the top.

"A golden tomato!" Antonio answered cheerfully, and Yao did not bother to ask why. Yao had quit the house soon after, and was gone into the dark, cold night.

Yao was still following the way in his mind, remembering the way from feel and smell and sound alone. He had a better time of walking than he had before; the incline had leveled somewhat and perhaps he was out of the forest because tree limb obstacles were few and far between. Still, he had almost forgotten, in the enchanted clemency of the bear's clearing, that it was the dead of winter. He was again dressed in the rags of his former life, and did not even have a proper coat, so soon he was shivering with cold. He tried eating some of the food Antonio had given him – sundried tomatoes, hard cheese, and bread – but he was shaking so violently even a little made him ill.

And still, he kept walking vaguely south, staying between the sun as it rose in the east and the moon as it set in the west.

Again, he began to stumble in his path, his knees hitting the ground on multiple occasions, swelling so that it was hard to bend them; this time, his unsteady footing came from his violent shaking, and his extremeties were numb.

Once more, his knees hit the ground; once more his consciousness threatened to desert him, and he heard a voice calling to him, lower and more serious than Antonio's had been, but the situation was familiar and pathetic enough that Yao felt irritated.

"_Sacre bleu, _what do we have here? A poor, delicious young thing, all frozen in cold!" the voice, again a young man, sounded near Yao's ear. Yao's irritation with the voice rose with every word, feeling the sudden urge to take a hot bath and purge the oiliness of it from his skin. Still, it kept up its slithering drawl, calling to someone that Yao could not sense.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, help me take this lovely creature inside and warm him up!" the voice fussed with the faintest trace of predatory smirk, and soon Yao again felt himself hefted, this time with much less delicacy than Antonio had displayed, as another man's words grated in his ears.

"Hold yer horses, you great faerie. He might look tiny and vulnerable, but – ngh – he's an armful."

The argument continued, but Yao was lost to it all; he again slipped into unconsciousness, upset at himself for his lapse even as he drifted off.

* * *

When he woke up again, he felt even more sore and exhausted than he had before, and his unconsciousness had afforded him even less rest. Still, he struggled to sit up, helped by the strong arms of someone whose hands were straying _far_ too close to his butt to be comfortable, and again he slapped away the help, irritably.

But he was warm, now, no longer shivering; he was covered securely in blankets, and felt a rush of gratitude for whoever had taken him in.

"Oh, lovely creature, you are finally awake!" the first voice from before gushed.

"Hmph, _finally_," the second voice grunted. "Didn't figure on spending my day off like this; so - who are you? What are you doing?"

"I am Wang Yao, aru, and I search for the Troll King."

The name of the troll king produced a complete stilling of the air in the room, from the wandering hand on his back to the agitated fidgeting of the second man that Yao could feel vibrating the bed.

Finally, the silence was broken.

"I am Francis Bonnefoy, and this is Gilbert Beillschmidt, and we… both know of who you speak."

Yao was beginning to think that quite a few people knew of who he spoke; whatever land the bear had brought him to must have been plagued with the Troll King's antics for much longer than he had thought.

"Where is he, aru?" Yao inquired, shoving off Francis' hand for the third time already.

"Dunno," barked Gilbert, beginning to fidget again. "'Cuz if we did, I'd totally be there beating the crap out of him."

"I, too, would be at his gates," agreed Francis. "He stole something from the both of us, something I think either of us would do anything to get back."

"Stop groping me, aru!" Yao snapped, thinking again of Yong Soo. He could practically feel the predatory grin radiating off of Francis.

"Just checking you for injuries, _cherie_. Did you injure your eyes? Why are they bound behind such a rough cloth?"

"Please, don't touch," Yao reprimanded him.

"Pff, why? That looks less than awesome," Gilbert demanded.

"Penance," was all that Yao answered.

Francis seemed about to question him again, but Yao cut him off. "The Troll King stole something from me, too, aru, and I'm not going to sit around and mope. I have to get my white bear back. And so, thank you for your hospitality, but I must go."

He struggled to stand, feeling the weight of his body as if it were an extra burden to carry. He almost fell in the lap of the fidgety one, and barely righted himself in time.

"Non, I cannot allow it! It is already night, and you must stay here, where we can warm you up~" Francis protested.

Yao stood as straight and proud as he could, realizing with a start that he had again walked a full night and day, with little rest and little food. Still, he could not while away his time here. "No, I'm afraid that I cannot impose upon your… hospitality… any longer. I must go."

There was a long silence.

"Well, it's awesome you're so serious. Almost as awesome as me. So let me give ya a coat or something, and a gift that might be able to help you," Gilbert offered.

"I, too, have something for you," conceded Francis. "After all, the troll king hurt me and Gilbert, as well as our friend Antonio up the road."

"No, no, aru, I cannot possibly –"

"Just promise," Gilbert muttered, grabbing Yao's shoulders as Francis gripped his hands. "Find my young master, and help him to return to me?"

"And help me find my _petite_ _lapin_."

Yao could do nothing but agree, and soon he was pressed with pair of old boots and a thick, heavy coat, which already had his bag of food and the golden tomato in the pocket. Two other objects were handed to him, heavy and oddly shaped.

"What are they?"

"A golden rose," Francis told him.

"And a golden chick. Which is _awesome_ and adorable, by the way; you totally wish you could see it."

Yao took the strange gifts, and, thanking his benefactors, soon quit the cottage and stumbled again into the dark, cold night.

The road was completely flat, perhaps a real thoroughfare – yes, that was it, he had found a road! It was far too late – or perhaps too early – for him to run into another soul, so he hobbled along as best he could, falling only a few times. It left Yao open to think, about many things.

The first was his unutterable guilt. He had been so childish, to allow himself to be worked up. As an older sibling, he was supposed to keep his emotions and childish urges in check, and the time that he failed to do this, he had ruined the life of another.

His treacherous, torturous mind played the events of Ivan's disappearance over and over in his mind, the few words he had spoken in the voice of a man and not the growl of a beast.

He had told Yao that they had met before… but … Yao could not remember when. Surely he would remember a man so beautiful and pale…

He was startled out of his reveries by the sound of a child, crying. Something deepset and maternal in Yao caused him to rush immediately towards the sound, almost tripping over his own boots but stopping as something barreled into his legs. He fell heavily to the ground, a strong grip around his shins, and the scarf around his eyes fell away.

He was staring at a blonde child with thick eyebrows and a teary face, gripping him around the legs and sobbing.

"Where's mama?" wailed the child. "I want mama!"

Blinking at the sudden onslaught of light, even though it was only predawn softness, Yao, reached toward the child, pulling him into a gentle hug and comforting him as best he could.

"Shh, now, I'll help you find your mama, aru. Does she live around here?"

And then Yao stiffened, something clicking in his head, the images of blonde hair and a lost child and the exact same words_: "I'll help you find your mama, aru._"

He had not met Ivan when he was a man; he did not remember that. But as a child…

He had been a young boy then; his mother had still been alive, and they lived just outside the city. Kiku was only just toddling, and Mei was a baby yet. The others had not been born. Yao was helping his mother shop in the city, carrying her basket full of cloth and boots for the children with his awkward, stumbling gait, dragging his packages more than anything.

And, approaching the clearing, he heard the voice of a crying child. It sounded almost like Mei, when she cried, but it was not his sister.

"Mama, what is that?" he asked, tugging on her sleeve.

"I don't hear anything?" the woman answered. "Come, we have to get home before it gets dark." And she picked up her pace, taking the basket from him so that he could hurry along after her.

But the crying did not stop; it got softer, and they were fleeing further and further from the sound. Yao could not let a child in need continue to cry, not when it sounded like his own siblings. Without thinking, he broke away from his mother and took off into the brush at the side of the road.

Almost immediately, he found a little boy, a bit younger than himself, crouched in the tall grass and crying. Yao stopped and stared at him, not sure how to approach.

The boy looked at him instead. "W-who are you?" the boy asked.

"Yao. Who are you?"

"I-I'm lost," the boy mumbled. "My mama was taking me out for a picnic and I ran off to see the yellow flowers and then when I turned around she was gone…" he dissolved into sobs again.

Yao was vaguely annoyed that his question had not been answered, but he brushed it off, grabbing the boy's pudgy hand firmly in one of his own small ones. The boy was young, but he was tall already, and solid. His clothing was much more brightly colored than Yao's own, and it had a funny pattern of shiny thread sown into the cuffs and collar, as well as a few four-pointed stars across one breast. And his eyes, still dripping tears, were so blue they could almost be violet. It was pretty…

"_I'll help you find your mama, aru_," he had said. And his mother had found them both soon after, gasped, and told Yao to run home alone with their packages; she'd return the boy herself. Yao had been confused, but he was ever obedient.

Now, holding a similar child close and comforting him with soft words, Yao realized the boy must have been the same violet-eyed man child that he had lived with for so long. And Ivan had been so struck with his kindness to a child he had not known – well, of course he would be kind to another child. It was not a matter of whether one were royal or not, not if they were in trouble! Yao had not known anything of Ivan, that first day they had found each other – although, now that he thought about it, his mother must have. She had not returned to the house until very late the next day; how far she must have gone, to return Ivan to his family!

"Peter! Oh god, Peter, you're alright!"

A strident voice cut into his thoughts as a young man hurried down the path toward him. The man was short and pleasant looking, almost feminine, radiating maternal worry and extreme relief. He rushed towards Yao and his little charge, who were still sprawled on the ground.

At the sound of the man's voice, Peter – that must be the boy's name – struggled out of Yao's grip and ran toward him, sobbing and calling out "Mama! Mama!"

The man bent to pick up the little boy, holding him close. "Peter, how many times have I told you not to run off!" he berated, sounding a little teary himself.

"I-I just wanted to help you gather firewood. I'm gonna be an adult soon, and help you and Papa."

The man shook his head, closing his eyes. "Peter, don't run off, not ever, alright? You're not an adult yet."

"But Mama –"

"I'm not your mama!" the man said in exasperation. It was only then that his eyes focused on Yao, who was staring at the reunion with a bit of discomfort and a bit of happiness, still reeling from his own revelation.

"Thank you so much for finding Peter!" he said, hefting the boy into his arms. "Thank you so much. I'm so sorry for causing you trouble; I'm Tino."

Tino reached down and helped Yao to his feet. Yao winced as his knees twinged.

"It was no trouble, aru. I'm Wang Yao…" he looked at Tino, and decided he should ask, should ask everyone. "I'm Wang Yao and I'm looking for the Troll King."

And just like with Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis, Tino froze and looked at Yao in disbelief.

"I see that you know of him, aru…" Yao hazarded. "Do you know where he is?" He didn't expect much, but now that his blindfold had fallen off, he realized that he no longer knew where he was or where he ought to go.

"Actually," said Tino. "I do."

* * *

Translations:

Sacre bleu - French, an exclamation that is rather stereotypically French… it seemed appropriate to me, but I don't speak French, so please feel free to correct me.

cherie - French, "dear"

petite lapin - French, "little rabbit"


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here's to hoping I fixed some of my characterization issues? I really hope you like this chapter!**

**"Rakas" supposedly is a Finnish endearment, feel free to correct me. "Lukas" is my headcannon name for Denmark, and "Orin" for Norway. Capisce? **

**This will be finished before the end of February, so feel free to berate me to get the next bit done *laughs***

* * *

Well, Yao had certainly not been expecting _that_ answer. Tino might be able to tell him of the whereabouts of the Troll King?

Tino's arms had tightened protectively around who Yao assumed to be his son, but he stared at Yao with level and serious eyes.

"I know where to find the Troll King," Tino repeated. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, he stole something from me, aru, and I'm not going to sit around and mope. I have to get my white bear back. So if you know where he is – please, tell me."

Tino looked torn.

"Mama, is this about the man that Uncle Orin –"

"Yes, honey," Tino interrupted Peter.

"… if Yao lost something, we should help him! It's what a grownup would do!"

Tino could not help but smile at the boy's words. "You might be right about that. And… if someone is against the troll king, I suppose that we cannot stand in their way." He turned back to Yao. "He stole something from us, too – Peter and I and our family - and we have been trying to get it back. Although we have not been able to succeed, perhaps you can make a difference."

Yao nodded curtly. "Please, any help I can get, aru."

Tino pursed his lips. "Of course. We will have to go on the back of the East Wind."

Yao quirked an eyebrow. He had gotten used to his life being strange, after living with a talking bear for a year, but surely Tino was bluffing when he said –

With a sharp purse of his lips, Tino let out a shrieking whistle that made Peter cover his ears and pout. Yao winced at the noise, scrunching his scarf in his fingers. For a moment, the sound hung in the still, barely-morning air, then the thunder of pounding hooves echoed from somewhere out of sight, around a bend in the road. It was not long before a large creature galloped into view.

It was not a horse, although Yao had thought so at first glance – it was much smaller than the work horses than he had seen, at atop its head was displayed a truly frightening rack of antlers. Yao's eyes widened as the creature – a deer of some sort? – galloped closer to them with a fairly feral look in its eyes. Yao's only real experience with animals besides the tiny woodland rodent or the domesticated variety had been Ivan, and he was not used to the wildness and inhuman nature of an animal, especially not when it was barreling down the road at him.

He needn't have worried, however; as the deer drew closer, it slowed to a canter, finally snuffling to a stop beside Tino. It was dragging a small, low sled behind it, which somehow had not turned over in the deer's movements.

Tino pulled an apple out of a bag on the sled, offering it to the deer, who took it happily, beginning to munch. Peter laughed, reaching out to pet the deer's side, before being tucked snugly into the sled in a small seat. Tino smiled at Yao. "This is East Wind. He's very nice." The deer snorted in response. "He's a reindeer, and one of my favorites."

Yao eyed the creature warily, gaze raking the reindeer's horns. Those looked dangerous.

Tino cocked his head, staring at Yao as if he were trying to see something inside his head.

"Are you afraid?" Tino finally asked in a calm voice.

"No," replied Yao.

Tino nodded in satisfaction. "Good. East Wind will take you to my home, and from there you will have help finding the Troll King."

Yao nodded again, watching Tino tuck Peter carefully into the sled, under a pile of furs and blankets. But this was the forest – certainly the warmth was not necessary?

"There is no more room on the sleigh," Tino said after a pause. "You will have to ride him."

Yao looked at Tino with wide eyes. "What, aru?"

"Don't worry – he might look small, but East Wind is no ordinary reindeer."

"That's not what –"

"Get on, please, if you want to come with us," Tino pressed, smiling faintly. He picked up a long pole that had been set crosswise across the sled.

Yao wanted to argue, to exclaim that there was no way he could get on this animal with the inhuman eyes and the galloping gait. But… if he had to do this to be with Ivan…

With clumsy difficulty, he swung himself up onto the reindeer's back. East Wind nickered softly, but did not seem at all phased by the extra weight, despite its small frame. Yao clutched precariously onto the creature's neck, unable to help thinking how different this was from the broad, solid back of his white bear. He clutched his bag tight to his chest, fastening his coat and tucking the scarf around his neck, all the while managing to keep a grip on the reindeer's neck and antlers.

Before Yao had even gotten properly settled, Tino called out a few short syllables in a language Yao did not know, and the reindeer turned and began to immediately move down the road. It moved slowly at first, swaying, then began to speed up, going faster and faster until it was travelling at a full gallop. The landscape whipped by Yao's face, the runners of the sled behind shinking against the road. How they did not get caught in the dirt, Yao did not know, and did not care much – he was only concerned with staying upright.

The trees whipping past his face were blurry and undetailed, but he noticed them getting thinner and more spread out the further they went. Surely they were travelling too quickly – surely a deer or a horse or any other manner of creature at all could not travel this fast. And yet they were, so fast that Yao felt his breath whipped out of his lungs as he breathed it, so fast that the wind shocked his skin and froze it to a numbing pressure. Tino, behind him even if unseen, used the single pole to keep the reindeer in a straight line, and they struck out fast along the road, until the road widened into dirt, the dirt widened into tundra, and the tundra widened into a thin layer of powdery snow. And still, they stayed between the sun as it rose in the east and the moon as it set in the west.

Snow. Where were they – how had they gotten there so fast – who was Tino and who was the East Wind and why did the supernatural only seem to be following _him_?

Yao was tormented by these thoughts in silence for a long time – hours or days, none of it seemed to matter. All he knew was the bunch and sway of the reindeer's lean muscles and the biting cold of the slicing wind.

The landscape was white and grey and blue, flat and emotionless and bare. From the distance, though, as Yao's eyes scanned the nothingness, a smudge of black bit into the horizon. Slowly, as the sledge and the deer and the wandering adventurer neared, Yao realized that it was a house, surrounded by a thick copse of dark firs. Nothing else was in the area, no creatures, no life, nothing to break the smooth ice and thin sheen of snow; just a low wooden cabin and black fir trees. The sledge gradually began to slow as it grew closer to the spectral glade, finally sliding to a stop.

The reindeer's hooves ground to a halt. Yao promptly fell onto the powdery snow. It didn't hurt much but his pride, but that was sufficiently bruised as Tino's bell-like laugh rang in the clear, cold air.

"Can't take a deer ride?" he asked, smiling as he unwrapped Peter from his seat. Peter was off in an instant, running clumsily towards the house. Yao frowned, scrambling to his feet and checking if his golden gifts were in his pockets, if his scarf was secure.

"… demon deer, aru…" he mumbled.

Tino just smiled and led Yao towards the house, the reindeer trailing obediently behind like a puppy. Tino tugged it towards a small shed-like building near the house, beginning to take off its harness and rub it down.

"Go inside, if you'd like. You'll find someone who can help you find the Troll King."

So Yao did as he was told and went inside.

He was met with the image of a man who was more terrifying than any Yao had come across in his journey so far – a large, giant of a creature with a piercing eyes and a fearsome glare.

He held Peter in his arms. The boy was chattering animatedly, and waved over to Yao as he entered and stopped, still and shaking.

"This is my Papa Berwald, and I told him what you told Mama and he's gonna help you!" Peter said.

Berwald grunted and nodded. Yao stared. Berwald held out his hand. Yao did not move to take it, and the giant finally pulled it back.

"'F we go, w'go now," he grunted, voice low and trembling in the bones of Yao's chest. "Y' 'fraid?"

"No," Yao lied. He could almost make believe it to be true. And then the giant glared at him again.

"W' go 'n the back o'th' West Wind," he said, putting Peter on the floor. Yao realized with horror that the "West Wind" could only be another deer. "I can't take y' 'll th' way, but I c'n show you s'meone who c'n help."

Yao was only able to nod in response.

So Berwald brushed past him and headed for the door, only to run into Tino as he entered. For a moment, their eyes met, and Berwald blushed crimson. Tino only smiled, brightly.

"Thanks for helping us, _rakas_," he said affectionately, smiling. "He's going to fight the Troll King."

Yao never said anything about fighting, but if that is what it would take…

So quickly that Yao almost missed it, Berwald leaned down to press a quick kiss to Tino's forehead before brushing out the door. Yao trotted to keep up, flashing Tino a look that might have been one of terror.

"He's harmless," Tino told him with a smile. "Good luck on your journey."

Yao pursed his lips and nodded. "Thank you for your assistance." And then he was outside, as well.

He found Berwald in the middle of the thickest part of the black copse, surveying an intimidating herd of reindeer. In one hand was a harness and the sledge that Tino used. The other hand was petting a deer much like East Wind, although larger and far darker in coloring. It nickered at the man, and Yao could not help but again think "demon deer" at its apparent lack of fear of the giant.

"G't on 'im," Berwald told Yao laconically, harnessing the creature. Yao frowned, his stomach beginning to feel queasy, but did as he was told. With clumsy difficulty, he swung himself up onto the reindeer's back. Again, he could not help but feel how different this was from the broad, solid back of his white bear. He clutched his bag tight to his chest, fastening his coat and tucking the scarf around his neck, all the while managing to keep a grip on the reindeer's neck and antlers.

Berwald folded his long body onto the small sledge, and before Yao had even gotten properly settled, Berwald called out a few short syllables in a language Yao did not know, and the reindeer turned and began to immediately move away from the copse and the little cabin and out onto the tundra again.

The cold wind bit at him, and he buried his face into his coat and his scarf and the warn neck of the animal beneath him. He was tired and cold and sore and hungry and he knew that the journey ahead of him would be long. He watched the tundra whip by beneath the pounding hooves, again wondering what kind of magical creature this was and where they were going and if Ivan was safe …

That thought was the most disturbing to Yao. He was afraid for the bear's safety; terrified, more than he was of the journey or the Troll King or even the deer beneath him. The bear had always watched over him, though; surely he could take care of himself.

Yao's memory was drawn back to the single spring he had spent in the house of his white bear. He had been outside, shelling peas that had grown in the inexhaustible garden. Baixiong had disappeared, as he was wont to do, and Yao was wondering when he would return, and if he would bring meat with him. That would have been a nice change.

The sun hit his face pleasantly, and he began to doze, fuzzy images of bears and men and forests swirling in his mind.

He did not know how long he was insensible, only that when he woke, he could hear the snuffling and lumbering of a very familiar creature. He was relieved, certainly, but also rather upset, now that he had been woken from his nap.

"Baixiong!" he scolded without opening his eyes. "Stop that crashing around and do something useful, aru."

The crashing gait of the beast continued; came closer, in fact. Yao did not try to mask his annoyance.

"Aiya, really, that is enough, you disobedient –"

It was not Baixiong. It was a guo xiong. A brown bear.

Yao's eyes widened in fear, locked on the bestial, inhuman stare of the creature only a few feet in front of him. The eyes were so different from that of his own protector – they held no trace of humanity, only the primal bloodlust and hunger that made Yao very aware that he was little more than prey.

His body shook, and his mind raced for the proper course of action. He had nothing he could use as a weapon – only a basket of vegetables.

The guo xiong shifted closer.

"B-back off, aru," Yao told him, his voice strained, as if he could reason with the creature like he had reasoned so often before with Baixiong. "I am small, aru, and stringy. I would not taste good."

The guo xiong shifted even closer, and Yao watched in horror as the thick muscles of its shoulders tensed and it was going to strike –

_YOU WILL NOT!_

The voice of Baixiong absolutely deafened Yao, ringing like a hammer strike to his brain as a blur of white fur and power and fear barreled into the guo xiong, knocking the huge creature off its paws. Yao froze, unable to comprehend that it was his white bear, to his rescue, wrestling across the garden with a dangerous creature. And Yao could do nothing. He was as helpless as he had been at Jia Long's bedside, helpless to stop others from getting hurt.

The growls of two warring beasts shook the air, and flashes of red were seen among the violent swirl of brown and white. Yao bit his lip, wanting to cry out, but afraid to distract Baixiong. Was it the white bear that was bleeding? Would he die?

And then it was over. With a whimper, the guo xiong broke away from its opponent and tore madly off into the forest, limping as it went.

Baixiong turned to Yao, his muzzle bright with blood and his eyes alight with a damning fire.

_No need to worry, my Jao, _he said, sweetly. _This blood is not my own. I will protect you, Jao_

And despite the fear that he should have felt, Yao's twisted mind was overcome with relief. He felt safe…

Surely, surely Ivan could care for himself.

Yao was tormented by these thoughts, these memories in silence for a long time – hours or days, none of it seemed to matter. All he knew was the bunch and sway of the reindeer's lean muscled and the biting cold of the slicing wind.

Slowly, the tundra beneath them began to slope upwards, and blue-gray slabs of slate began to peer out from under the snow. The deer ran between them until the snow faded away to smooth, icy rock and a narrowing pass. They had run into an entire mountain range, the arms of it narrowing around their path as the range's great shoulders heaved up towards the sky.

The path took them up and up, across precarious switchbacks with the sides of the cliffs on their one side and a deep and fatal drop on their other. Yao did not dare look back and see if the stoic Berwald was as terrified as he was, but the deer's hooves never faltered and slowly, Yao was able to open his eyes and watch as they drew further and further upward – towards a low, dark outcropping of rock that jutted flat and solid near the top of the rocky mount that they were ascending. It soon realized itself to be a house, as cozy and solid as Tino and Peter and Berwald's had been, although larger and more decorative, with a sloping roof and solid, carved beams. They approached the house, and the deer slowed its gait.

The reindeer's hooves ground to a halt. Yao promptly fell onto the icy rocks. He really was going to be bruised, eventually, and did not look forward to that at all. He hurried and stood up, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. At least Berwald didn't laugh

Instead, the giant just leveled a thick glance at him, pointing at the house. "Go 'n there."

"Aren't you coming with me, aru?" Yao inquired.

"'s better that I don't –"

"Hahah, Berwald! I thought I saw that lame deer dragging your sorry ass up my mountain!"

Berwald's explanation to Yao was cut off abruptly as a tall man slammed out of the house and strutted into the snow, his long coat whipping behind him. He leveled an arrogant grin at Berwald, his cap cocked at a jaunty angle.

"… Lukas…" Berwald sighed. Yao raised an eyebrow at the man, catching the palpable tension in the air.

"Ohh and we have a pretty girlie here, too! Finally breaking up with Tino, are ya? I'd be perfectly happy to take him back if you –"

Berwald looked like he was going to step forward and hit Lukas, but Yao got there first. He refrained from smacking the man, but he stood toe-to-toe with him, making himself look as formidable as possible (which was, admittedly, hard when he was so short). Still, his glare seemed to put the man off for a moment.

"I am Wang Yao, I am a _man_, and I am looking for the Troll King," he spat.

Lukas had the sense to look slightly mollified. He rubbed the back of his head, looking away from Yao.

"Er… too right… well, I suppose you came here for help, then. That king took something precious away from all of us, and we have been trying to get it back. Although we haven't been able to succeed, perhaps you can make a difference."

Yao kept his face perfectly blank. "Yes. I hope that I can."

"Okay, cool! Well, I suppose we can't waste any time."

"Y'gonna be okay?" Berwald asked Yao.

Yao nodded in response. "Yes, thank you. I appreciate it."

Berwald nodded back, abruptly. "Gotta get home to m'wife, then." Without another word, he turned his mount around and began the descent of the rocky outcrop. Yao watched him go, feeling a little helpless. He felt like he was being passed around, a mere chip in some grand game of Go.

"So, y'look kinda tired, ya wanna sit down 'nd have some coffee?" Lukas offered, extending a hand. Despite his general self-important attitude, Yao could not help but feel a little drawn to him. And the idea of sitting down and warming himself was wonderful – how long had he been on the road? How many days had passed? Surely he had been on the backs of the East and West Winds for so long… and never closed his eyes, since Gilbert and Francis' houses.

But Yao shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that I cannot impose upon your hospitality any longer than is necessary. I must go."

Lukas looked at him approvingly. "Cool. Just let me get the South Wind out of storage, and we can go."

Yao's eyes widened. "Not another deer, aru…"

Lukas laughed. "Psht, as if. Those deer are demonic. Crazy things; I swear, I saw one eat a _rat_. They're _carnivorous_."

Yao thought he might be right.

"Nah, South Wind is this pretty beauty," he said, leading Yao to a small shed off the side of the house. He fiddled with a thick lock, then swung open the doors to reveal…

A toboggan.

Yao could not believe this was happening to him. That thing… was tiny. It had no railings. How would it move? Where was it taking them? Surely it wasn't…

"Yep, out Southie is my baby. Well, Tino named it," Lukas shrugged, "but the kid has always been a little touched. Still, it's a good, solid little toboggan and it'll be perfect for where we're going."

Yao said nothing.

"You scared?" Lukas asked with a leer.

"No," Yao finally choked out. If that is what it would take to find Ivan…

Lukas dragged the heavy creature out onto the slick rock, and it scraped its way along with the sound of metal that sent a shiver up Yao's spine. He scraped it past the house, towards its back.

Beneath them, was the other side of the mountain.

It sloped down, fairly gently but descending what looked to be a mile, swirling past drifts of snow and trees and the grinning sides of the mountain into a misty nothingness below them.

"W-we…"

"Are going down there, yeah," said Lukas cheerfully, grabbing his hat and stuffing it into the pocket of his thick black coat. "It's fun. Besides, I haven't seen Orin in a while. Even though its hell to climb back up here… haha, maybe I'll just stay a few days!"

He laid the toboggan on the snowy ledge before the dizzying drop, and sat on the back edge, spreading his legs and gesturing for Yao to sit between them.

"Come on and sit down, you crazy fool, cuz this is gonna be a wild ride."

Yao didn't doubt it, carefully tucking himself within the flimsy confines of the sled. Before Yao had even gotten properly settled, Lukas whooped a wild cry in a language that Yao did not know, pushed away from the ledge, and they were _falling._

Yao could not bite back a scream as they let gravity do its work, the air fisting past his head in a wild bite that stung even worse than his trips on the reindeer. Lukas' legs squeezed around him, his thick fingers digging into the sides of the toboggan as he steered the thing by leaning their bodies. The blunt nose of the front pushed up snow, speeding their progress as they hurtled past trees and rocks and huddled shapes.

Yao was almost positive that he was going to die.

Hitting a bump, they rose off the ground a few meters, and Lukas whooped again, the sound rumbling in his chest and across Yao's back. They landed hard, the toboggan never slowing in its descent. Soon, they had passed into the mist on the side of the mountain, and Yao could not even see a foot in front of them.

They were going to die, they were going to die, they were going to –

_Ivan, I'm sorry…_ he thought desperately, eyes squeezing shut.

And still they rushed onward, the only sound the air that was forced out of his lungs and the ecstatic cries of man behind him.

Slowly, Yao worked up the courage to open his eyes. At first, they unfocused with the speed that they were flying past the scenery, turning the trees beside them and the snow below them into a consistent blur of grey and pine green.

And then, without warning, the land dropped out from underneath them, and they flew over a ridge.

"HOLD ON TIGHT!" Lukas yelled happily. Yao gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into Lukas' legs, eyes wide open, unable to close. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a thin, lancing pinpoint of absolute terror collapsing his lungs. His life should have flashed before his eyes, but the only thing he could think of was the haunted look that the bear-man had given him before disappearing.

And with a mighty, boneshaking thud, the toboggan landed, motionless in the snow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Norwegian: **

**Jævla dust - Equivalent of "bloody moron" or "damn moron" **

**Faen - Lit: The devil; an exclaimation**

**Danish: **

**Min Elskede - My darling**

**Min Skat - My treasure**

**Someone was asking what "Jao" meant - I'm sorry; I used the phrase before but I didn't explain it. Basically, its a more "Russian" way to spell the name Yao, although the pronunciation is much the same. I just like it because it amuses me...**

**Hey, there is a new link in my profile to some fanart that was drawn for the RoChu contest on Deviantart, based on this story! Please check it out, its very very good. Anyway, I think there is only one chapter left? Ah, okay, done rambling...**

**

* * *

**

Yao hoped that he wasn't dead, because the yelling was really getting on his nerves.

He wondered if he could open his eyes, even going so far as to twitch a lid, but then decided it was too much work and continued to lie still in a warm, heavy haze.

The yelling did not stop.

"_Jævla dust_! I always knew that you were a reckless idiot, but endangering someone else?" a voice ranted.

"Aww, _min elskede_, you were worried about me!" came the second voice, loud and obnoxious as well, but without the curling anger of the first. It was oddly familiar, and Yao fought through his haze to try to remember _why_.

"I'm worried about the other one! _Faen_, you're an idiot."

"Don't be like that! He wanted to get down the mountain double-quick, so I thought, hey, South Wind would be an easy way to go –"

South Wind. The name struck a chord in Yao's brain. South, East, West, gold, blindness, scarf, bear – _Ivan_.

Yao sat up with a panicked suddenness, breath stilling in his chest as he looked around the room where he sat. Lukas was there, smirking at another, shorter man with a vicious scowl on his face. He looked a bit like Tino, but his attitude clearly told Yao that he was not to be trifled with.

"See, he's awake, anyway!" Lukas said happily. He turned to Yao. "Sorry for dumping you in the snow and stuff. I passed out for a second, but luckily _min skat _found us both and got us all warmed up!" he announced, patting the other man on the head. The man bared his teeth, shoving Lukas away – though not roughly, Yao noticed.

"Thank you for coming to our aid, aru," said Yao politely, rubbing his forehead. He had a pounding headache that pulsed behind his eyes; he was abominably tired and sore from what he assumed was the impact of the toboggan. How they survived was a mystery, and one he didn't want to put much thought into.

"It's not much trouble. I'm used to it," the man told him. "My name is Orin."

"I'm Wang Yao, aru, and I search for the Troll King."

At the name, Orin's eyes narrowed dangerously and he swung his head to look at Lukas.

"Is this why you brought him here?" Orin spat.

Lukas bounded over to pat him on the shoulder. "Now, now, don't get pissy. This kid is off on some grand quest, and I thought, well, you could help him out a bit, right?"

Orin turned back to Yao. "You might be able to find the Troll King, but you will _never_ defeat him."

Yao was taken aback at the frosty glare radiating from Orin. He had been lucky, receiving help from those he met on the way; what made Orin different? Still, he pressed on. "He stole something from me, aru, and I'm not going to sit around and mope. I have to get my white bear back. And so, thank you for your hospitality, but if you will not help me, I must go." Yao swung himself out of bed, feeling a little nauseous and wincing as his head pounded again. Orin caught him easily as he stumbled, and forced him sternly back onto the bed.

"I never said that I wouldn't help; I'm just telling you that you're running a fool's errand."

Yao glared at him. "Then a fool I will be."

Orin glared right back for a long moment, then sighed. "I'll get you something to drink, and then we can talk."

Yao wanted to protest, to say that he could not spend any more time recovering, but Orin had already brushed out of the room.

Yao shot a helpless stare at Lukas, who chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry 'bout him. He's been on edge for a while. The Troll King stole something important from him – well, from all of us, really – and we haven't been able to get it back."

Yao nodded. "What did the Troll King steal?"

"His brother."

Yao stopped, shocked.

"Oh… aru…" he muttered.

"Yeah. We've all tried to get him back but that castle's pretty darn impenetrable. I mean, you can get into the keep and all, pretty easy, lots of servants and stuff, but after that? Not a chance. They can see we are human right away."

Yao frowned but was determined to stay undeterred. "I will go, anyway. I will rescue the white bear, and I will rescue Orin's brother, and take back what does not belong to the Troll king."

Lukas slapped him heartily on the back, and Yao winced. "That's the spirit!"

Orin stepped into the room, laden with a tray of tea and food for Yao. "If you are done spilling secrets that do not belong to you?" he asked Lukas archly. Lukas just smiled at him.

"Yep. So, you takin' Yao over there?"

"It seems I have no choice," he muttered. "I'll take you Yao, but my warning still stands. We – the four of us, Tino, Berwald, Lukas, and I – barely escaped with our lives."

"I will go, aru."

"Then we go on the North Wind."

Yao raised an eyebrow.

"Tino named it; the kid has always been a bit touched," Orin replied with a shrug.

Yao finished eating quickly, and stood again, his headache having receded to at least a bearable level. Orin led him outside, leaving Lukas with the order to "Stay put and don't touch anything."

The house was at the foot of the mountain; Yao craned his neck up to see where he had descended from, and felt his knees go weak at the terrible height. Orin dragged him away quickly, however, toward the back of the house.

It was on the edge of an ocean.

Yao blinked; he had not been expecting that at all, but here it was – Orin's squat, wooden house was perched on the edge of a gravel beach that led down to steely, cold water that stretched out until it collided with a vast and distant outcrop of black slate.

If Yao had been wondering where the Troll King's castle was, he wasn't any longer.

It was perched on the black slate – it _was_ the slate; a solid mass of slicing rock that arched above the sea, only just in sight.

On the silver-gravel strand, a small row-boat was beached, turned over and flimsy in the face of the stormy waves beyond.

He watched dumbly as Orin overturned the boat, dragging it towards the water. In small, black letters on the side of the boat were the words "North Wind."

… Fate really, really disliked Yao.

Orin stared at Yao tellingly, smirking as if he _knew_. "Scared?"

"No," Yao growled back, and after everything, he decided that he truly wasn't. He splashed through the shallows, and boarded the boat. Orin got on behind him, and before Yao had even gotten properly settled, he called out a few short syllables in a language Yao did not know, and the boat turned and began to immediately move.

There were no oars in the boat. There was nothing to propel it. And still, it struck out straight across the heaving waves, as if drawn by a rope. And yet still, it travelled north, between the sun as it rose in the east and the moon as it set in the west. Yao's fingers gripped the sides as it flew over the water, lifting up and slamming down with a jarring intensity. The skiff rolled so much that Yao could not even look back, question Orin, see how he was hanging on. It didn't matter. It didn't matter how the boat was moving or who else was with him, what matters was that he was advancing on the castle and advancing on the bear who had become a man who had become something too important for Yao to give up on.

* * *

When Ivan had woken, his first thought was of Yao, the mysterious beauty with a scalding fire. Or rather, he thought of Yao's eyes, as he had last seen them – sparking and golden and deep dark with a guilt and loss that he could not fathom properly –

And then he realized where he was, where he had laid for a week. The castle of the Troll King.

In the bed of his son.

Prince Alfred rolled over in his sleep, slinging a warm and thick arm over Ivan's chest, and Ivan tensed, closing his eyes and clenching his fists in the fabric of his sheets and wishing he was no longer human, wishing the arm across his chest was small and slight, the body beside him curling into him with a mischievous power instead of a spoilt possession.

He fingered the bandages over the burn marks on his neck, his only reminder that a home like that for him had ever existed. Then, he laughed, low and deep and frighteningly manic, his last scent of sanity dangerously thin. He giggled like a child and thought of someone he wanted more than anything in the world.

* * *

Yao found himself within the outer walls of the Troll King's castle in a shorter order than he realized was possible. Orin had slowed the boat – or had the boat slowed itself? – at the edge of a sharp outcrop of rock. He pointed warningly at a low scramble of rock, a hollow dip in the sheer sides of the castle.

"That is your entrance into _Trondheim_, the Troll King's castle," Orin said. "I go no further. You can enter through the tunnel there; they have not shorn it up. Beyond that, you are on your own."

Yao stepped out of the boat. "What am I to expect?"

Orin laughed once, humorlessly. "They're just like you or I, in looks, but you will know that they are not human. Their teeth are sharp and their eyes are wild – but if they do not see your eyes and you do not bear your teeth, they won't be able to distinguish you from their own."

Yao clicked his teeth together sharply. "I'll come back to you."

Orin nodded curtly. "I'll be back in five days' time. If you are not here, I will leave." And the boat immediately began to pull away.

And then, so softly, so fleetingly, Yao thought that he imagined it, he heard Orin's voice. "Find my Eirik, and help him return to me…"

And then Yao was alone on the rock.

He scrambled towards the cave that Orin had pointed to him, ducking into the blinding darkness and stumbling forward.

It was night outside. It was night inside. Yao walked and walked and remembered his time as a blind man, tied the scarf over his eyes, and did not stumble until he felt cold, stale air on his face and was in the realm of the Trolls.

* * *

Ivan did not leave his room. He had been allowed, graciously, to walk the bare halls of the keep, allowed by a master who believed him to be loyal and yet tested his every step, but he did not take up the offer. He paced his room and he ate and slept and did not understand how time slipped away from him. And every night, the tall, blonde Troll Prince Alfred would bound into his room and declare that tonight was the night that they would fall in love and they would lie together under the sheets, barely touching, until it was morning.

He would not know it was morning by the set or slant of the sun; it has disappeared altogether, bathing the land in six months of endless night.

Alfred bounded in again, and Ivan realized he had wiled another day away – a sixth, six days he had been without the home he had built for himself and another in the woods. Ivan affixed the sharp and aching smile to his face, allowing the other to undress and beckon him to bed.

Today, however, Alfred had something bouncing in his palm. It was small and gold and looked heavy, and Alfred was obviously absolutely entranced.

"What have you got there?" Ivan asked, too cheerfully, feeling his voice crack.

Alfred immediately closed his palm around the object. "A tomato," he said quickly. "A golden tomato." He looked as if he had done something wrong, but Ivan was used to the sharp, wily look in his slit blue eyes – eyes inhuman, snakelike, and cruel, if offset by a glaring smile and a bounding step.

"Where did you get it?" Ivan pressed, feeling something pricking at the back of his skull.

"Oh. Um. Nowhere. Just – a blind beggar was sitting outside the keep. Just sitting – the whole world was bustling past him; you know, everyone getting ready for our marriage feast!" Alfred beamed, as if the song that should be playing were a march and not a dirge. "Anyway, he had something tied over his eyes, but he _definitely _saw me, cuz he just… offered me the gold thing! Out of the blue!" Alfred finished, smiling viciously and revealing sharp canines.

Ivan glared at the sight, again feeling the pricking in his skull, as if sensing the untruths. Before he could react, however, a warm clay mug was being forced into his hand.

"Drink this!" ordered Alfred with a strained smile. "You look worried. About the wedding, and stuff. So I – and dad – thought you should drink this!"

It looked like the strong tea that the Troll King favored, and Ivan shook his head.

"No. I am not thirsty." He refused Alfred.

Alfred smiled thinly. "C'mon. Think of it as a present from dad. He'd be upset if you didn't accept it."

Ivan frowned.

"You know how he gets when he's upset."

Ivan shuddered. The last time the Troll King was upset, he had let his magic run wild – lost control, for a few precious seconds – and had collapsed an entire wall of the castle, simply on accident. It had been on the advent of the escape of four former servants of his; the fifth, a small, silver-haired boy with impassive eyes, he had caught, punished violently, and thrown back into the cells.

That is what Ivan hated the most about the Troll King – his subjugation of others. He had magic, it was true, but he had no right to use that to kidnap those that had struck his fancy.

Ivan had been one that had somehow struck his fancy.

And knowing this, and knowing the Troll King's power, he grabbed the mug offered by Alfred, and drank deeply.

Within moments, he was fast asleep, dead to the world.

* * *

The moment that Alfred saw that Ivan was asleep, he ran to the door, hissing out of it.

"Alright, come in, quick, before dad finds out!" he ordered nervously, cupping his small gold bauble as if it were a talisman.

The blind man shuffled in, and Alfred wondered briefly what could have afflicted a troll so young as this to make him so crippled. He didn't wonder long, however.

"You have until morning," he told the blind troll, then shut the door behind him.

Yao removed the scarf. It had worked. None of them had seen his human eyes, none of them had suspected, and he was able to trade his first golden gift for an entire night with Ivan -

"Ivan…" the name fell out of Yao in a gasp, and for a moment he could only stare.

He was beautiful and tormented, just as Yao remembered – strong shoulders and sloping chest, the same rugged and fierce expression twisting his face, only barely softened by sleep; the familiar and half-silver hair splaying across his face.

"Ivan –" Yao's breath caught in his throat. After all this time, the trek and the hardship and the worry and the guilt, he was finally here, with his bear, with his prince. He rushed to the bed, intent to shake the man awake, but touching that strangely cold skin, Yao could not gain a response.

For a quick, violent moment, Yao feared that perhaps Ivan was dead, but the warm press of breath against his fingertips allayed his fear almost immediately. He was not dead – only asleep. Insensibly asleep, and Ivan would not wake.

Yao was close to breaking down completely that evening. Six days of sleepless worry, trading away the first of his gifts to a greedy prince in a furtive exchange for a single night with Ivan - and now _this_. Now Ivan would not wake for him.

Yao ran soft fingers through Ivan's hair, biting back tears that he refused to let fall.

"Stupid, stupid, aru…" Yao mumbled. "Ivan, wake up. Wake up for me, aru. Let me tell you how sorry I am. Let me rescue you."

The words dripped from his mouth like tallow, the entire night. They did not stop, and Yao did not tire, until Prince Alfred unlocked the bedroom door and heralded a morning that was not met with sunlight. And Yao drew his blindfold back onto his eyes, hiding his humanity from the slit gaze of the Troll Prince, and left Ivan behind.

* * *

When Ivan had woken, his first thought was of Yao, the mysterious beauty with a scalding fire. Or rather, he thought of Yao's eyes, as he had last seen them – sparking and golden and deep dark with a guilt and loss that he could not fathom properly –

And then he realized where he was, where he had laid for a week and one day. The castle of the Troll King.

In the bed of his son.

Alfred was not there when he awoke that morning; strange, as the boy often slept longer than Ivan did. He shook it off, and for a moment caught the scent of something that didn't belong in the room or the castle or this northern wasteland – he thought he smelled a forest, a wood fire, cooking vegetables. He thought he smelled Yao.

Shaking his head, Ivan stood and stretched, feeling the burns at his neck. A knock came at the door.

Affixing his strained smile, the one that kept him alive in the _polite aristocracy _the Troll King sought to emulate, he called to his visitor. "Come in~!" His voice was cheerful. His aura was not.

The visitor, a small, shy servant named Matthew, was in the doorway. He was human, as well, another changeling victim of the Troll King's will. Ivan tolerated him, feeling a kindred spirit, but tried not to associate with the human slaves – he feared the attention paid to him would doom the others to a life like his. Besides, they themselves feared Ivan's station, or what it would be in just three – now two – short days.

And perhaps they feared the fury he exuded from every pore – a warning sign to stay away, that he never wished to be here.

"The King requests you to attend Alfred's private chambers, for a fitting of your wedding clothes…" Matthew mumbled. He looked up at Ivan inquisitively – the boy was always a bit curious, a bit less scared than the others. Ivan's smile almost softened at the sight, but he quickly regained his edge as he contemplated what he would be doing. Wedding clothes. For _him_. It seemed like a bad dream.

The entire day, then, was a bad dream – a whirl of pins and fabric, colors and styles strange and garish to human eyes. The Troll seamstress was assisted by two other human slaves, a quick and deft brunette called Roderich and a rather uncooperative boy referred to as Romano. Ivan, from afar, admired the fire in each of them – they were still fighting, in their own small ways, to be free of the Troll king. Even if it was just Romano sticking the seamstress with a stray pin.

Alfred had twirled in sometime during the day, to get a last fitting of the overly-opulent white robes he was to wear. He looked dashing, of course, but the inhuman air surrounding him was almost as threatening as Ivan's own barely-concealed rage.

Alfred was fingering a small gold rose.

"Where did you get it?" Ivan pressed, the most he had spoken all day, feeling something pricking at the back of his skull. Matthew, attending Alfred, looked strangely intrigued as well.

"Oh. Um. Nowhere. Just – that same blind beggar! Man, I didn't know so many Trolls lived in the castle, but we just have so many guests. Anyway, gave me the rose, just out of the blue!" Alfred blustered. Matthew frowned. Ivan never dropped his smile, but he watched as Alfred nervously fingered his prize.

That night, he dropped into bed, head throbbing. He was not used to speaking to so many people. He was used to locking himself in his rooms, or perhaps wandering a southern forest with only the acquaintance of a single companion…

Prince Alfred, viciously prompt in his most hated of routines, bounded in, bearing another clay mug of tea as he had the night before.

"Hey, you still seem awfully on edge, but you slept well last night, right?" the young man pressed. "I – dad – thought you might want more tea."

Ivan did not want more tea. He drank it anyway.

Surely it was the stress of the day that left him unconscious on the bed so quickly.

The moment that Alfred saw that Ivan was asleep, he ran to the door, hissing out of it.

"Alright, come in, quick, before dad finds out!" he ordered nervously, and again he let the blind Troll enter, warning him again – "You've only got until morning."

And Yao drew off his blindfold, this time sparing a glare at the prince behind the closed door. He had easily traded his second gift of gold for another night with Ivan, but now, realizing that he had been somehow drugged or magicked, understood why Alfred had given into his demands so easily.

And, still insensibly asleep, Ivan would not wake.

Yao did not sit idly. He tried everything he could, shaking and talking to the man late into the night. Seven days without sleep, seven days on a useless search – if Yao could not find a way to wake Ivan then he knew the man could not be rescued.

And still, nothing worked.

Yao ran soft fingers through Ivan's hair, biting back tears that he refused to let fall.

"Stupid, stupid, aru…" Yao mumbled. "Ivan, wake up. Wake up for me, aru. Let me tell you how sorry I am. Let me rescue you."

The mantra continued until the sounds of the castle restarted, and morning was upon them. Before Prince Alfred could return and sweep him away, Yao tried the only other idea he had – he leaned down and softly brought his lips to Ivan's.

Yao could feel the warmth of the man's breath against his skin, could feel the life and heat there, but Ivan did not awake or kiss him back. This was not their first kiss, Yao decided, not really. It was as useless as his cardinal attempt, that had dissolved into air before it could even come into being.

He had to let Ivan know that someone was here. He had to do _something_.

Yao undid the bandages at Ivan's neck, clean and unsoiled. Beneath the bandages were the three burns from the drops of tallow. Untwisting his scarf from the worried knot in his fingers, Yao saw the three dark stains from the same tallow, that he had tried in vain to wipe from Ivan's neck. Yao left the scarf around his bear. He took the bandages for his eyes instead.

And then Alfred was at the door, urging him out, and another night was over.

* * *

When Ivan had woken, his first thought was of Yao, the mysterious beauty with a scalding fire. Or rather, he thought of Yao's eyes, as he had last seen them – sparking and golden and deep dark with a guilt and loss that he could not fathom properly –

And then he realized where he was, where he had laid for a week and two days. The castle of the Troll King.

In the bed of his son.

Alfred was again, not there – Ivan felt like he had slept far later than he did normally, but did not feel any less tired; as if he had been drugged asleep.

He reached up again to tug at his bandages, his last reminder that anything lasted outside the slate walls.

Instead of clean muslin, his fingers were met with soft yarn. Curious, he unwound the fabric from his neck. It was a length of pale violet, perfect but for soft wear and three small, dark stains…

_Jao_

Ivan blinked, closing his eyes and putting his head in his hands. He did not understand. It was not possible. How could Yao's scarf be here – and certainly it had belonged to him. Nothing else could be stained in such a way.

His head throbbed, and without warning, the door to his chamber swung open. Alfred stood in the door, smiling brightly. Ivan affixed his own grin, too large and too brittle, even for Alfred. Somehow, though, the façade was ignored.

"Hey, there. Wow, you were out for a long time, it's almost afternoon." The boy said.

Much too long. Ivan woke at dawn, no matter the lack of sun. Things were not making sense.

"Anyway, are you excited about tomorrow?" Alfred asked brightly. Ivan wondered if the Troll Prince was the only one unaffected by the air of barely suppressed rage he was giving off.

Alfred was playing, again, absently and with great possession, with a small gold bauble.

"What is it?" Ivan asked, ignoring Alfred's question for fear of snapping altogether.

"Oh, it's a little gold chick. Cool, huh?"

The prickling began in Ivan's skull. This time he did not ignore it.

"Where did you get it?" he asked, smoothly, dangerously.

"Same place I got the others!" Alfred replied quickly, loudly. "Some old blind guy. Man, he's generous."

And Alfred quickly shoved the bird in his pocket, as if willing the conversation to be closed.

"Anyway, just checking on ya. The wedding is to be bright and early tomorrow; dad's really excited."

Ivan just smiled, as he always did.

"If you're getting cold feet, I'll bring ya tea later, to calm you down. It seems to work, huh?"

And maybe that was the key to it all. Three days ago, Alfred had begun to receive small golden gifts. Three days ago, Ivan began to sense deceit thicker than a Troll's natural sheen. And three days ago, he had been offered tea to help him calm, and had fallen asleep quickly and slept deeply.

Ivan resolved to unravel the strange pieces of tangled thread that had been laid in his lap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello. This is the last chapter. I wanted to write a note up here because I think A/N's at the bottom ruin the impact of the ending? ANYWAY**

**Thank you all for sticking with me on this! Its really hard to stick to a multi-chap! *laughs* I hope you all had a fun time, and the ending was satisfactory. Please keep supporting me! **

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* * *

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The first thing that Ivan did was call Matthew up to his chambers. He had seen the way the human slave looked at the gold rose Alfred had been fondling the day before, and he wanted to know why.

Matthew was trembling in the doorway in under a minute, the Troll servants knowing better than to defy Ivan more than necessary.

"Matthew…" Ivan said as soon as he saw the boy. He was seated on the edge of the bed, trying to transform his brittle grin into something more welcoming, but he could not. He did not want to, not badly enough. "Matthew, come in, sit down."

Unlike any of the others, who would have run from the room – they had, before, when Ivan had tried to make friends with the other humans – Matthew shivered, entered, and sat as far away from Ivan as he could.

Well, that would have to do.

"Matthew, you saw that rose that Prince Alfred was carrying, did you not?" Ivan asked, not bothering with niceties.

Matthew nodded quickly, jerkily, something shadowy covering his eyes.

"You recognized it, didn't you?" Ivan pressed. "I saw the way you looked at it. What was so special about it?"

Matthew looked terrified, as if someone had discovered a terrible secret of his. He bit his lip.

Ivan leaned closer, knowing that he was only exacerbating the problem, and knowing that he didn't care. "What. Is so. Special?" he repeated slowly.

Matthew closed his eyes, and murmured something under his breath.

"I can't hear you," Ivan told him cheerily. "Please speak up!"

"If I tell you, you can't tell the Troll Prince," Matthew repeated. "You can't; they'll go and look for him!"

Ivan blinked.

"I won't tell," he promised, momentarily non-plussed. "You have not noticed, perhaps, but the Prince and I do not get along."

And at that Matthew had the gall to _ismile/i_ at him. So maybe the boy had not been afraid of Ivan at all, but rather what Ivan could _ido_/i. Well, that was certainly an odd thought.

"It belonged to the man that I lived with, before I came here," Matthew said softly, playing with the hem of his shirt. "It could be none other than his… I only hope that he is safe, now that someone else has his treasure."

Ivan frowned. "The question is how could Alfred get it, yes? That would be quite hard. I do not believe his blind man tale."

Matthew shrugged. "I don't know, I just worry…"

"Matthew! Damn it, Matt, that fucking prince has it! So help me you were i_right/i _that i_pompinaio_/i has all three!" A strident voice was swearing up and down the hallway, coming closer quickly, followed by two sets of footsteps. Matthew looked up in alarm, running to the door.

"Romano, stop, wait, I'm in here with –"

The other got to the door first, followed by a third, and Ivan found himself grinning, rather unhinged, at the other two humans of the castle, Romano and Roderich.

They saw _him_ as well, Roderich going white as snow and Romano flushing deep red. They both bowed, jerkily, sending panicked glances at Matthew.

"I- I - _shit, _we didn't…" Romano stuttered.

"Come here," Ivan ordered. "What were you yelling about?"

Romano looked at Matthew helplessly, but Matthew only smiled a little and ushered him in the door. "Go on, I don't think he's gonna hurt us."

Ivan really hated people assuming that about him, but he decided to leave it. He crooked a finger at Roderich as well, who shuffled into the room.

"I – we - _merda_, it's just –" Romano tripped over himself. "That _p__rick -_ I mean 'Prince'! - He has my… my… he has Antonio's tomato!" He stared at Matthew as he said it, looking desperate.

Matthew frowned deeply, putting a hand over his mouth.

"You were right!" Romano told him in a frenzy. "The monster has Antonio's tomato and he's got Francis' rose –"

"- and Gilbert's… bird creature…" Roderich interjected.

"- but none of them are _here_ so I don't know what happened!" Romano finished, looking angry and scared and worried all at the same time. He caught his breath, realizing he had been swearing and yelling in the presence of the future husband of the Prince of the Trolls, and blanched. Ivan just smiled.

"I see. So all of you have seen something from your former life in the castle, yes?" Ivan asked. The three of them nodded quickly, and Ivan fingered his scarf.

"Only Eirik hasn't…" Romano muttered. "But they have him serving that idiot of a King so we haven't even got to _talk_ to him."

Ivan frowned. "I see…" he repeated. "Thank you. Now leave."

Roderich and Romano hastened to do as they were told, but Matthew spared on last look back at Ivan.

"Do you know what is going on?" he asked hopefully.

"Nyet," Ivan told him. Even if the languages were not the same, a negative was a negative.

Matthew bit his lip and left.

Ivan sat back on the bed, knowing what he would do that evening.

* * *

"…quick, before dad finds out!" Alfred hissed out the door. Yao slipped past him and into the bedroom, brushing in with a sense of dread and desperation. Tonight was the last night to wake Ivan. He would be married in the morning, and Yao had nothing more to offer the Prince to spend a night with Ivan, anyway.

"You have until –"

Yao shut the door on him, unraveling the bandages from his eyes as he paced across the room, only stopping to undo a hard knot when his knees brushed the bed.

As he pulled his blindfold fully off, he was grabbed around the waist and pulled down onto something firm and warm and strong.

"Aiya – !" Yao's voice was cut off by a huge hand over his mouth. He finally blinked, and looked up – straight into a pair beautiful, insecure, _human_ violet eyes.

The vibrating tension that was the only emotion keeping Yao running violently snapped and he suddenly could no longer hold his body up anymore, collapsing into the willing arms of his Baixiong. They pulled him closer to a broad and heaving chest, heavy hands running along his sides, through his hair, deep voice muttering his name over and over even as Yao whispered back.

"Baixiong…" he said aloud. "Ivan…"

Yao could feel Ivan smile against his hair. "You came for me…" Ivan wondered aloud, and Yao let him run his hands along his body, savoring the feeling. A bear could not do this.

"Of course I came," Yao muttered. "It's my duty. I ruined you, so I am here to save you." Strange, that he was to be a guardian, when he felt safe only now, in Ivan's arms.

"You ruined nothing, only… stained it, for a while…" Ivan told him, rubbing Yao's shaking back.

Yao could not believe that they were here, finally – Ivan awake, safe, human, holding him. He closed his eyes and clutched the man tighter, feeling him chuckle.

"My Jao has found me. That is all that matters," Ivan said in wonder. "But _how_…?"

"… it was long. I had many friends. They helped me… I bribed the loud one – the prince – into letting me spend a night with you, but he drugged you, and I thought… that I'd lose you." Yao bit his lip angrily, already having become so vulnerable and unwilling to fall apart anymore. But Ivan, next to him, made falling apart so _ieasy/i, _always had, from the moment Yao had laid eyes on the stupid, complicated, frightening bear.

Ivan grinned, his face breaking into the most natural and easy smile he had had ever allowed, since he had first been transformed into a bear. He shifted away from the wet spot on his bed, where he had poured out the sedative tea Alfred had pressed on him, and clutched Yao tightly. "Jao was afraid for me? Jao went to so much trouble to find me?" he asked in childlike glee. "Perhaps… Yao loves me…?"

"…" Yao muttered something into Ivan's neck. Ivan smiled, again, relishing how easy it was.

"I'm afraid I did not hear that," Ivan said happily.

Yao colored, pulling away. He looked down. "I only… well, of course, you idiot, aru!" he exclaimed. "I spent a week trekking across the entire world only… only to… only to think that you'd be married or dead, aru, or … I didn't sleep and I can't believe any of this is happening –"

Ivan shut him up with what Yao firmly believed to be his first kiss. It was warm and comforting and insistent everything he wanted. Was it naïve, after this, to believe in fate and soulmates and just _ifitting/i? _Probably. But all thoughts of logic and maturity fled out the window when a white bear knocked on his door.

Yao knew that Ivan loved him, too.

They pulled away, breathless and dizzy, and Ivan looked both smug and exhilarated, in equal measure.

"S-so… how do we get you out of here, aru…?" Yao stuttered, trying to calm his heart rate. He ran his fingers along the sash he had tied around Ivan's neck; it was still there, he hadn't taken it off.

Ivan looked down at Yao, wanting to laugh at how childlike and tactile he was, needing something to do at his hands. "I like the scarf; may I keep it?" he asked.

"O-of course!" Agreed Yao, caught off-guard. He was acutely aware that he was still sprawled across Ivan's lap. But neither of them moved to correct the situation.

Ivan was pleased. "Thank you. I like it, despite the stains."

Yao shrugged. "I can get them out for you, if you'd like. Tallow is not so difficult, if you know how. I just did not have time."

"You can remove it?" asked Ivan. "Isn't that difficult?"

Yao snorted. "How would you know, man-bear? I bet you have not done your own laundry in your whole life."

Ivan smiled sheepishly. "I live in a castle, yes? Not so much demand for that."

Then Ivan paused. Yao looked at him curiously, liking the innocent way his brow furrowed and the confusion on his face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think I might have a way to end the marriage…" Ivan said, frowning in concentration. "It… is a little dangerous – but you will trust me, won't you?" He looked at Yao with wide, piercing eyes, begging him.

Yao didn't need him to beg.

"I already told you, you great stupid creature – I spent a week traipsing across the entirety of the north looking for you! I don't care how dangerous it is anymore!" Yao huffed, smacking his arm. Ivan giggled, pulling Yao close to him again.

"Then we will challenge Alfred to a little contest, I believe," Ivan said.

"Contest?" Yao asked warily into the front of Ivan's shirt.

"You do not have to win, although I know that you will. We just need to make the Troll King angry," Ivan said, and would not explain further. Instead, he gathered Yao in his arms and scooted the both of them beneath the blankets. "We have some night left – sleep, Yao. You say you have not slept since I left. So sleep now and trust I won't go away."

Yao was comfortable and warm against Ivan's chest, but he was wary. "What about Alfred?"

"What _about_ Alfred?" Ivan repeated. "Do not worry."

"But –"

Ivan looked down at Yao's red face, desperately trying to disappear under a blanket. He smiled softly, almost tenderly at the man. "You are worried about something else, yes?" Yao did not respond. "I have slept by your side every night for a year, and never once did I harm you. Trust me that I will not harm you now."

So much trust, Ivan was asking for. Yet, Yao had no trouble giving it.

And with that, he nuzzled quietly into Ivan's chest and they fell asleep, protecting each other.

* * *

When Ivan had woke, his first thought was of Yao, the mysterious beauty with a scalding fire. Or rather, he thought of Yao's eyes, as he had last seen them – sparking and golden and deep dark with a guilt and loss that he could not fathom properly –

And then he realized where he was, where he had laid for a week and three days. The castle of the Troll King.

In the bed of his son. On the morning of his wedding.

And, strangely enough, those eyes – no longer guilty or sad, but full of wonder and excitement – were still staring at him. They were smiling.

Ivan smiled back, realizing that he was not dreaming.

Then, the door burst open, and all hell broke loose.

"Hey, blind guy, you've got to – WHAT?"

Alfred actually _screeched_, the sound grating and startling; surely the entire castle was now awake.

"He's in bed with my husband – what are you doing with my husband?"

Ivan frowned – Alfred's choice of words was irking – and pulled Yao closer to him, as if to protect him from the wrath of Alfred. Alfred was ranting, and Ivan heard a commotion in the halls as the Trolls awoke and congregated toward the noise.

"And he's a human!" Alfred yelled, catching sight of Yao's wide and sleep-bleary eyes. By this time, there were guards at the door, surrounding Alfred and attempting to calm him. None of them seemed willing to enter the room, however. Yao quickly realized it was because of Ivan, and the look that he was giving the others.

The man in question set Yao gently on the bed and rose, still clothed from the night before, and glared at all of them. "I'd like to speak to the Troll King," he said. "It is about our wedding."

"No duh it's about the wedding, you cheater!" Alfred was in fine fettle, now. Ivan ignored him, helping a bewildered Yao to his feet and brushing out the door, past the guards and down the hall to where the King held court. None of the guards stopped him.

He kept a hand firmly around Yao's shoulder, and Yao struggled to keep up with his long strides. "Don't move so fast, aru," Yao muttered irritably.

"Would you rather ride on my back?" Ivan teased. Yao scowled and quickened his pace.

As Ivan burst into the reception hall, decorated in gold and blue for the wedding celebration, he was unsurprised to already find the Troll King there, perched on the edge of his impressive throne and staring at the commotion with impassive eyes beneath huge and ferocious eyebrows. King Arthur always seemed to know when something was about to happen.

"I would like to add a provision to my wedding," Ivan announced without preamble, glaring at King Arthur. Arthur glared right back, and the young, pale servant at his side – Eirik, if Ivan remembered correctly – looked distinctly nervous.

"I do not believe you have any right to make demands," Arthur returned imperiously. "You will marry my son, and that is that." At his words, the son in question stumbled into the room, panting and red-faced. Ivan looked at him with disdain. "And you will rescind this attachment to this… unfortunate creature you have by your side." King Arthur inclined his head contemptuously at Yao. Yao glared back.

"Surely, you would be up for a challenge?" Ivan asked, his brittle, courteous smile firmly back in place. "It should not be so hard, if you are truly so powerful."

King Arthur frowned, and Ivan knew he had hooked him. "What do you propose?"

"An easy task," Ivan said. "But without magic." Now King Arthur simply looked irate. "I do not think it is proper for me to marry another who cannot remove stains. So, I propose this – I will marry whoever can remove the tallow from this scarf."

And Ivan removed the scarf around his neck, holding it up for inspection. Yao rolled his eyes, realizing what had come to Ivan's mind the last night.

"Prince Alfred would not be doing your washing, in any case!" King Arthur snapped. "It does not matter whether or not he can –"

"Any one of your maids will do," Ivan interrupted smoothly, grin widening dangerously. "Or can no one do it?"

King Arthur frowned, but even Yao could tell he had already been goaded past the point of no return. "Fine! Call for Roderich!"

The slave – the _human _slave – had been listening at the door; they all had. Roderich immediately came forward, bowing to the King and then nodding at Ivan, differentially, but knowing what was to be done. He would help out, no matter what the strange human's plan was – anything to get back at his captor.

"Can you remove the tallow stain?" King Arthur demanded.

"I believe so," Roderich returned, eyes trained on the ground, but anyone could see his hackles rising, being talked to in such a way.

"Good. What do you need?"

"Just a tub of warm water, lye, and salt," Roderich replied. Yao could not help but smirk. Whether he knew it or not, Roderich was definitely doing it wrong.

Sure enough, a half a tub of water splashed on the throne room later, the stains had not budged, and had in fact worked themselves deeper into the fabric. Yao frowned, not liking what the water was doing to the fabric, but not saying a word. King Arthur was gripping the sides of his chair viciously, desperate and impatient all in one. Alfred just looked fascinated, as if he had never seen someone do laundry before. He probably hadn't.

Finally, Roderich wrung out the scarf, showing the stained fabric to all in witness. King Arthur was beside himself with rage, leaping out of the chair and calling: "Enough! This is a bloody farce, and I won't stand for it a minute longer."

Yao jumped at the sound, and the feeling of static electricity in the air, as if raw power was humming around him. The other humans in the room shifted nervously, as did a few of the trolls. But Ivan just smiled implacably and patted Yao's arm. "I believe that you have yet to have my chosen mate try, yes?"

Yao did not know whether to be embarrassed, pleased, or furious at Ivan's choice of words. Instead, he drew all of it aside and tried to act imposing, snapping at Matthew and Romano. "I need a table and a hot iron, as well as some blotting paper."

As the things were fetched, Yao wrung the scarf out, drying it as best he could. He really disliked the attention focused on him – laundry was not a grand production! After accepting a hot iron wedge from Romano, carefully wrapped on the handle with thick fabric, he put the scarf on the table between two pieces of blotting paper and began to iron it gently. It didn't take long before the tallow to work itself out of the fabric and stick to the paper, and before long the scarf looked practically as good as new.

Yao allowed himself a small smirk at a job well-done, and held up the scarf for inspection.

King Arthur actually _growled_. He looked rather dangerous.

Ivan smiled at him triumphantly. "So, this is the one I will marry yes?"

The electricity in the room ratcheted itself up another notch, and Yao's skin prickled. He felt tense and wary and knew that something, something soon, would snap.

"How dare you reject royal Troll blood in favor for of a common _human?_" Arthur raged.

"He is not common at all," Ivan assured cheerfully, moving to Yao's side and putting a protective arm around his shoulder. "Better than your barely-cultured, ignorant brat."

That did it.

The air in the room was sucked away in a vicious vacuum, but before anyone could move it _rushed _back in with a violent screech, hitting like a projectile, a wall – King Arthur had leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing and fingertips glowing. He was so angry that he lost control of his magic, and now it was wreaking havoc.

As the air hit, Ivan wrapped his whole body around Yao, standing firm as the thunderclap of suction hit the opposite wall of the chamber and _shattered. _A huge, gaping hole appeared, and shards of rock blasted from the gash.

People were screaming, running, the chaos was immediate and consuming. Arthur's skin was still glowing, but the fear was, in fact, not from him – the hole in the wall was so large that the entire structure was collapsing.

Ivan moved quickly. Yao realized, with some detachment, that he had been expecting this all along. Then, he was swept up into _very _strong arms, tossed over a shoulder, and carried out of the room. Yao knew he really ought not to be so exhilarated at being manhandled, but all that he could do was cover his head and pray they did not get hit with falling rocks.

He was vaguely aware of others, following them – peering up, he saw other humans; four of them. Ivan seemed to know them, and he led the way out of the crumbling castle, past screaming Trolls. They were ahead of them all; Ivan _had_ planned this, and knew the exact route to leave the keep walls.

A harrowing _crack_ echoed down the empty hall, then another. Yao saw Matthew's face twist in panic. Then another crack, and suddenly Yao was shoved between a hard surface and Ivan's shoulder as a roar shivered around him and the world went black.

* * *

When the dust cleared and Yao stopped choking on his own tongue, the light had still not returned. He was not thinking about the lack of light, however, but about the pain in his chest at the impact and the heavy weight atop him.

"Ivan?" Yao asked in a tight whisper. "Ivan?"

His panic was assuaged by a calm chuckle and a body rolling off him. "Yes, I'm right here. I believe the roof collapsed."

Surely enough, Yao's eyes began to adjust to the darkness and a pale trickle of light shone in from a very apparent gap that led to only open, grey sky.

They were pressed up against a wall, caught in a triangle made by the floor and the perpendicular, as well as a slab of ceiling that leaned precariously against them, forming a small pocket of safety. Yao pushed his way out from behind it, and gasped at what he saw.

It was nothing; nothing at all. Nothing but obsidian rubble, an ocean of it. The castle had completely imploded upon itself. Nothing was left, and no one.

Or perhaps not _no one_.

"Romano?" Matthew was yelling, folding out form his own position behind a stronger bit of wall.

"_Che pallo_, I'm right here!" Romano answered.

"Are you all unharmed?" Roderich asked, as he climbed into view as well.

"I have Eirik!" Matthew shouted, pulling the boy in question to his feet.

Their voices echoed eerily across the rock.

Yao's eyes swept through the landscape – a huge, desolate island home to nothing more than gravel and a few sturdy walls, the only reminders left that a castle once stood here. None of the trappings of the keep were visible – but neither were bodies. It was as if everything had disappeared into smoke. The Trolls were gone.

"What the hell, there's someone with a _boat,"_ Romano yelled. "They're on the beach!"

"Brother!"

The screamed words were the first Ivan ever heard uttered from Eirik, the personal slave to the king, and the boy immediately streaked across the uneven rocks, stumbling as he went, throwing himself into the arms of Orin. Orin was still, obviously shocked, but he folded his brother close into a crushing hug.

Yao smiled looking at the scene, as he felt Ivan snake a hand around his waist. "Orin promised that he would come back for me, aru, and here he is. We are going home."

"Home?" Ivan repeated, not quite understanding if the way Yao spoke of it was the same way he hoped.

"Yes, _home_," Yao returned. "You promised… you promised I would be your companion. You promised I would live with you. You owe me a cottage in the woods like the one that disappeared, and I expect to rebuild it with you, aru."

Ivan buried his face against Yao's hair, ignoring the dust and debris in it in favor of savoring this closeness, the closeness of the man who had truly rescued him and freed him of his enchantment.

Yao would not have any of that, the hidden smirking and tacit touches. He immediately turned around, yanked Ivan down by the scarf, and kissed him full on the lips.

The moon set in the west and the sun rose in the east and Yao was content to wander no longer.

And so, it ended happily ever -…

Well, you know.


End file.
